


Love In The Time of Coronavirus

by regolithheart



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gen, Isolation, Modern Era, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 10:29:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regolithheart/pseuds/regolithheart
Summary: One pandemic, one lake house, and two people who loathe one another. Will they be able to survive the outbreak...and each other?
Relationships: Elain Archeron/Graysen, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron & Cassian, Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 112
Kudos: 264





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for clicking on my fic. This was not the Modern AU I was planning to write, but inspiration hit and well...I think a lot of us can relate to Nesta's current predicament.

Nesta Archeron tapped her pen against her notebook wondering how much longer her conference call was going to last.

“Okay, team. Sounds great. Hopefully this thing will end soon and our lives can get back to normal. We’re eager to break ground,” a voice crackled through the line. “Send us the package when you’re done.”

“Will do. Thanks everyone.” Nesta clicked off the call before anyone else had the chance to respond. She could see her friend and desk neighbor shaking her head.

“You really have a way with words,” Amren said, playing with the heavy ruby earrings dangling from her earlobes.

“I hate conference calls.”

“And here I thought you were just eager to get on the road.” Amren’s smile was feline.

“Don’t remind me. I’m thinking about calling Feyre and cancelling. I’d much rather stay in my own home, get my work done, and avoid having to talk to a single soul for two weeks.” Nesta began shoveling the contents of her desk into her work bag. “At least then something good will come out of this pandemic.”

“Don’t put me down as your emergency contact when they find your body a month later, half-eaten by feral cats.”

Nesta leveled her grey eyes at Amren. As if she’d ever put anyone down as her emergency contact. She was the type of person who didn’t believe in emergency contacts and was offended that Amren thought otherwise.

“Besides,” the tiny woman said, flipping her jet black hair. “You make it sound like you’re being shipped off to Siberia. I would _kill_ to be quarantined in a house on Lake Velaris.”

“You’re more than welcome to come. I’m sure there is plenty of room.”

Amren eyed her friend and smirked. “Tempting, but I need to go home and take care of Varian.” She held up her cell phone. “Some idiot assaulted him when he was trying to help an old lady at the grocery store.Can you believe these people?”

Nesta knew exactly what people were capable of and the fact that everyone was running around with no reins on their stupidity in a time of panic did not come as a surprise to her.

“Is he okay?”

A wicked smile spread on Amren’s face and her eyes gleamed silver. “Oh he’s okay. He’s just using this as an excuse to get me to dress up as a nurse.”

“Okay, goodbye!” Nesta shoved her laptop into her bag and heard Amren cackling behind her as she walked through their nearly empty office.

As she strode past the glass cube that was her principal’s office, she nodded her head to indicate she was leaving, but he waved her over.

Devlon Cerny was still waving her over while he nodded his head into his phone, “Right, right, right.”

Nesta suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She leaned against the door, another glass panel, waiting for his call to end.

“Well listen, we’ve been through this with our China and Southeast Asia offices months ago. I’d like to think we’re better prepared in this situation than most architecture firms.” Devlon nodded again.

Nesta glanced at her phone, wondering how much longer he was going to make her wait.

“Yep, we’ll continue to coordinate with the consultants. Thanks, Tamlin.” He finally turned his eyes onto her. “How’d the Carver call go?”

“What, don’t you trust me?”

Devlon gave her a pointed look. “Of course, I do. I still want to know how it went. I’m in charge of ops for this office, aren’t I?”

Nesta relented. “Business as usual. They signed off on the master planning package and we’re full steam ahead on block F. Whose available on the viz team for renderings?”

“VR?”

Nesta shook her head. “We’re focusing on the commercial tower right now. A couple of exterior shots and some lobby and amenities spaces.”

Devlon thought about it. “I’ll let you know.”

Typical.

“Anyone but Eris.”

Devlon snorted. “I’ll let you know.” She knew he hated when she gave him orders. “You headed out now?”

She nodded. “Unless you need me to stay.”

Devlon shooed her away with his hand. “Go see the sisters. And stay safe out there.”

Nesta made sure he saw her rolling her eyes this time. “Anyone but Eris,” she reminded him before turning around to leave. She heard him half-scoff and half-laugh as she retreated.

She flipped her phone back and forth between her hands as she waited for the elevator to take her to the parking garage. It would be so easy to send a text to her sisters, telling them that she changed her mind—that she wouldn’t be joining them on their isolation at the lake. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to stand hearing the hurt and disappointment in their voices when they’d inevitably call her, demanding a reason. It didn’t matter that they’d be with their respective boyfriends and Nesta would be left to talk to Feyre’s boyfriend’s cousin who barely hid her disdain. Or one of the family friends, the one who barely said a single word, or the other one, who—

_Ding!_

The elevator doors slid open, distracting Nesta from her thoughts.

* * *

Nesta stood in front of her bed, trying to decide between the two sweaters in each hand while her sister, Elain, kept her company on the phone.

“How much clothes are you bringing?”

Elain hummed, her voice on speaker. “Between the two of us, I think we have four suitcases.”

“Four?!” Nesta thought that was absurd.

“Well… we don’t know how long this thing will last, do we?”

Nesta could just imagine Elain crossing her arms defensively.

“I’m sure there will be a washing machine.” She folded the grey sweater and tucked it neatly into her suitcase.

“Yes, but…you’ll need a couple of bathing suits and some nice dresses…”

“Elain, we’re going to be in _quarantine_ , not throwing dinner parties. And who is swimming in the lake in March?”

“I think Feyre said there was a heated pool…or was it a jacuzzi? And you don’t have to be so… _practical_ all the time. What’s wrong with wanting to dress up every now and then?”

Nesta snorted. There was no one she needed to dress up for in that particular group—not that she believed in dressing for anyone but herself.

“And how many grey sweaters are you bringing?”

Nesta looked down at her suitcase and threw a glare at her phone.

Elain’s voice was much more cheerful after Nesta’s silence. “Nes, promise me you’ll bring at least one bathing suit, one _nice_ dress…oh! And some work-out clothes. Feyre says there is a gym. I need you to show me your arms routine.”

Nesta sighed, “Elain, you do realize that I’m going to be working most of the time, right? This is not going to be a vacation for me. Maybe I should just—“

“Don’t you dare think you can worm yourself out of this, Nesta. You’ve already promised Feyre and me and what do we say?”

“An Archeron never breaks her promise.”

“That’s right!”

Nesta sighed again.

Feyre had come up with the _brilliant_ idea three days prior. Her boyfriend, no, fiancé owned a house on Lake Velaris and with the pandemic racing it’s way across the globe and people beginning to self-quarantine, it was only a matter of time before it was a mandate and not a request.

And Feyre, always making lemonade out of lemons, decided that if they were all going to be quarantined somewhere, it might as well be together and on a beautiful lake. The phone calls were made, plane tickets were booked, and arrangements were set.

Nesta had flat out refused when Feyre had called her sisters from France.

“But we’ll be together,” Elain had said.

“With five other strangers.”

“They’re not strangers.” Feyre had said through a sigh. “You’ve met them all, numerous times. I’m _marrying_ Rhys! They’re going to be my family…and yours.”

Probably sensing Nesta’s anger building, Elain had pivoted the conversation. “Nes, Feyre’s flying home to be with us. We haven’t see her in three months.”

“She was the one who decided she wanted to live in France for a year.”

“For art school!” Feyre’s voice had gotten high-pitched.

Ever the diplomat, and referee between Nesta and Feyre, Elain spoke gently. “It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that we should be together.”

“Fine,” Nesta had finally relented.

If she was going to be cooped up in a house with seven other people, it might as well be a big house where she could hide if need be, and knowing Rhys, the house was going to be huge.

“What time is Feyre’s flight?” Nesta asked as she dumped the contents of her suitcase out on her bed to reassess, given Elain’s new parameters.

“Not for a couple of hours, I think.”

Nesta frowned. “Isn’t it a ten hour flight from Paris?”

“I think they’re taking some new jet that gets you there in half the time.” Elain’s voice grew soft, as if she were unsure of the facts.

That’s how it always was with Rhys. Nesta never knew if half of the things he said were true or not, mostly because they just seemed so unrealistic or unbelievable. It always irritated her when she was proven wrong. Still, it was easier to believe that he was a grifter lying about being rich than accept the fact that he was actually the sole heir of his father’s multi-million dollar real estate empire.

“I hope they bring goodies. Would it be horrible to ask for a box of macracons from Laduree? I should text Feyre now!”

Nesta shook her head as she rearranged items back into her suitcase. Elain would be happy to know that she had room for two dresses and Nesta was also pleased she was able to squish another sweater in before zipping the whole thing up.

“How many books are you bringing?” Elain asked, knowing her sister too well.

Nesta eyed the tote bag crammed full of books sitting by the door. “Not that many.”

“Good! We’re going to have so much sisterly bonding time that you’re going to get sick of me by the end of this whole thing!”

“Never.” Nesta looked around her apartment longingly, but after hearing the excitement in Elain’s voice, she lifted the phone and suitcase off the bed, heading to the door. “Are you sure I can’t pick you up?”

“I’m sure. Graysen should be getting off soon and I know you hate my music choices.”

It was hard to argue with that one.

“If you don’t mind waiting, you could ride with us,” Elain suggested, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

The truth was that if Nesta and Graysen were to be locked in a confined space together for the whole ride, no one of them would not make it to Sonoma alive…and there was a very big possibility that Nesta would end up being charged for murder. They all knew this, but it still never stopped Elain from trying to force Graysen and Nesta to get along.

“Thanks for the offer, but you know how I hate sitting in the back seat.”

“Okay. Call me if you need _anything_. I’ll see you soon.”

* * *

Six and a half hours later, Nesta pulled up the gravel drive of Rhys’ lake house. To call it big would have been an understatement. The house was actually a mini-mansion which stood two stories high, but also had a ground level cut into the sloping hill next to it and she had a feeling she was only seeing half of its actual size from her viewpoint.

The sun was beginning to sink below the edge of the lake, causing the windows to glitter with the reflecting light and Nesta had to admit to herself that it really was beautiful.

She turned off her ignition and looked around. She had expected Feyre to bound down the porch stairs to usher her inside, but the house sat quiet. And with the sun fading, she thought it was odd that there wasn’t a single light on in the house. There were no other cars that she could see besides her own and a beat up truck with peeling paint on its tailgate.

Perhaps it was a maintenance man, or gardener. Even with the woods at its doorstep, the house still had a manicured lawn and enough of a garden that Elain would swoon over the roses and an hydrangeas swaying happily in the breeze.

Nesta grabbed her phone to make sure she got the right address. She was certain that she had, but she was starting to get an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach, and that was when she saw the missed call and texts from her sisters.

She almost didn’t want to read them.

> _01:03 Feyre: The airport is packed. Gross._
> 
> _01:03 Elain: Don’t touch anything! Wash your hands!_
> 
> _01:22 Feyre: Flight is delayed. Don’t worry, Rhys is trying to find us a charter._
> 
> _01:24 Elain: Keep us posted._

Nesta shook her head in disbelief as she scrolled down to the bottom of the text window.

> _04:58 Feyre: No one’s flying out of Paris and London’s due to cancel all their flights._
> 
> _04:58 Elain: So you’re stuck in France?!?_
> 
> _04:59 Feyre: For now, yes._

Nesta’s knuckles were turning white from clutching her phone. She tapped the play button on Feyre’s voicemail, one that she clearly left without allowing Nesta to pick up.

_“Nesta, don’t be mad. We’re doing everything we can to get home. Rhys is calling in all his favors. It’s going to be okay. You’ll be with Elain and you can call me at any time—we’re heading back to the apartment now. I’ll call you if anything changes. Stay safe.”_

Nesta could feel the heat rising from her chest and crawling up her neck as she punched in Elain’s number.

“Nesta! Don’t be mad!”

She had to take a deep breath. “Where are you?”

The two seconds of silence immediately made Nesta want to bare her teeth.

“We…haven’t left yet.”

“Elain! I offered to give you a ride. I even left work early! And now Feyre…”

“I know! I know, Nesta. Don’t hate me, but Graysen had some things he needed to finish up at the office and it’s already so late. We’d be lucky if we got there before midnight. But don’t worry! We’re going to drive up first thing in the morning.”

“Why didn’t you call me when you knew Feyre’s flight was cancelled?”

“I knew you were driving and I didn’t want you to be upset. Are you there now?” Elain’s voice went small.

“Yes. I’m sitting in the drive way with no way to get inside because both my sisters have abandoned me.”

Elain sighed, “We didn’t abandon you.”

“No? How am I getting inside the house? I’m all alone.”

Nesta could hear Elain’s breathing on the other end of the line, it was quick, almost…nervous. She narrowed her eyes.

“Elain?”

Elain’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Well… you’re not _entirely_ alone…”

Nesta closed her eyes and breathed out of her nose, trying to calm herself. She had felt that sense of doom all day. She should have listened to it—should have turned around on the highway and headed back to Los Angeles all those times her body was telling her too. But she ignored those warning signs—didn’t know what the universe was trying to warn her about.

But she knew now. She knew even before looking, knew before Elain said the words out loud.

When she opened her eyes and looked out her window, standing there, with his arms folded across his broad chest and a shit-eating grin on his face, was the very last person on earth Nesta Archeron wanted to be stuck in quarantine with.

And his hazel eyes gleamed with delight.


	2. Two

_FUCK! Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Nesta was being punished—for all the horrible things she had done in another life. Probably for all of the horrible things she had done in this life. Would things have been different if she had volunteered more? Gave money to charities? Stopped calling people idiots?

Looking at the man standing outside of her car, grinning at her, confirmed that no, nothing would have prevented the universe from deciding to ruin her life.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Nesta grumbled and hung up the phone before Elain could respond.

She narrowed her eyes at the figure watching her, trying to assess her options. If only she’d arrived five minutes earlier, she could have gotten the worse news in recent memory and turned her car around. She would have gladly driven all night, that six and a half hour drive in reverse, if it meant she could avoid the predicament she was now in.

But there was no point in wishful thinking. That wasn’t how life worked for Nesta. So she took another deep breath and stepped out of her car.

“Nesta Archeron.” The voice was deep and much closer than she had expected. How he got to her car so quickly, she didn’t know.

When he reached over to help her, she slammed the door shut. It was much more forceful than she had expected it to be, but being able to take out some of her irritation in that way gave her a little relief.

The man’s eyes were still holding her face which made her want to ball up her fists, but Nesta noticed his grin falter a fraction before he twitched his thumb towards himself.

“Cassian,” he offered.

“I know.” She turned on her heels, but caught the reassuring nod he gave himself—the slightest movement of his chin—out the corner of her eye.

She popped her trunk open.

He followed her. Of course he did.

“Need a hand?”

Nesta grabbed her suitcase and heaved it out in one fluid motion, then grabbed her work bag and slung it on her shoulder.

“No.”

There was that insufferable grin again.

“Looks like you do,” Cassian said and grabbed the bag full of books before Nesta could protest and closed the trunk with a firm hand.

Nesta ground her teeth, but he was already walking towards the house.

“You coming, sweetheart?”

Nesta’s bag bounced and kicked up the gravel as she wheeled it behind her, but she refused to walk any quicker.

Cassian had already turned the corner and she let herself pause for a moment to take in the scenery. Past the manicured lawn and white Adirondack chairs were stone steps cut into the gentle slope that wound down to a wooden dock nestled in the water.

Tall oaks framed her view and Nesta saw a pair of swallows skim the rippling surface. She watched as they danced around each other, dipping, gliding, pulling apart and then diving close.

She grimaced at the thought that one single cocky male with a man-bun no less, was the only difference between her idea of paradise and her idea of hell on earth.

Turning around to head inside, she saw Cassian standing there watching her and she didn’t know what agitated her more. The fact that one of his eyebrows was raised, amusement on his face, or that he was holding the door open, waiting for her.

Nesta marched through the French doors, ignoring him completely.

* * *

The house in one word was…beautiful. It was so beautiful that as she looked around, Nesta was only mildly irritated at Rhys. She had hoped that she would able to turn her scrupulous eye on it and tally up all the tell-tale signs of architecture-by-numbers and she was ready to use every ounce of that as ammo against him.

She had almost stopped in the middle of the doorway when she saw the large white cedar dining table with the 180 degree view of the lake, not the live-edge walnut table with gaudy chandler she had expected to see. And her body hummed with pleasant surprise to see that the rest of the house was decorated in the same modest way with soft muted colors as to not compete with the surrounding landscape that could be appreciated through the large expanses of glass.

Cassian cleared his throat behind her. “Would you like a tour?”

Nesta tried her best at a non-committal shrug and was glad that he didn’t comment.

He set down Nesta’s book bag onto the counter of the breakfast bar and gestured wide. “Kitchen and dining room,” and nodded his head past Nesta’s shoulder. “Living room.”

Nesta eyed the double-height room and appreciated the openness of the living spaces. She followed Cassian down the corridor as he pointed out the butler’s pantry and half-bath. Next to it was the office where the two side walls were lined with bookshelves, flanking the large window that overlooked the lawn.

“You can work in here…if you want.” Cassian said, motioning to Nesta’s work bag which she still had slung on her shoulder.

She hummed and shrugged again, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder.

Across the office was the media room which housed a projection screen and what looked to be a custom made sofa big and deep enough for ten Cassians to lounge comfortably. Nesta eyed the array of pillows in varying shades of purple as she ran a hand along the arm of the sofa. Mohair.

Next to the media room, as Elain had promised was a home gym. There were some weight machines as well as a treadmill and two Pelotons, which made Nesta roll her eyes. Free weights and yoga mats sat in one corner of the room and Nesta’s jaw nearly dropped to see an actual sauna across from the en suite bath.

Cassian chuckled at the look on her face.

“Believe it or not, it gets used quite often.”

Nesta had told Elain this wasn’t a vacation, but she made a mental note to take advantage of the sauna as much as possible while she was stuck there.

“And here,” Cassian said, taking long strides to the French doors that clearly opened to the outside, “Is the back patio.”

It was a sliver of space that was sandwiched between the house and the sloping hill next to it, but it was big enough for a small lap pool, an outdoor shower and a Jacuzzi.

“If you didn’t bring your own, there are extra towels and swimsuits for guests in the linen closet. Although…” Cassian’s eyelids drooped as he eyed her up and down, the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth. “I’m not one for ceremony around here.”

Nesta looked at him and took two steps closer. His grin widened, showing his canines.

She tilted her face towards him, her smile matching his. “Eat shit,” she said and walked away. She heard his bark of laughter behind her.

The only other room on the first floor was the master bedroom which was modest in size given what Nesta has need of the house so far, but it did open up to its own private patio with a spectacular view of the forest meeting the water.

What wasn’t modest however, was the master bathroom and closet, which combined was the same size as the bedroom. Possibly bigger.

Nesta felt an odd flutter in her chest when she saw Feyre’s clothes neatly hanging in the closet next to Rhys’. She quickly left the room and almost ran into Cassian in the corridor.

“The bedrooms are upstairs. You can have your pick,” he said.

She was surprised that he didn’t add any additional commentary when she nodded at him.

She wanted to protest when he grabbed her suitcase on the way, but she found that her throat was dry, so she simply followed him up the stairs.

“So when are Elain and Gregory showing up?” Cassian asked.

Nesta couldn’t tell if he was trying to make a joke or if he really forgot Graysen’s name. Either way, it was funny enough to take the sting out of the fact that Elain was still in Los Angeles and Nesta allowed herself a smile.

“Not until tomorrow,” she answered stopping next to him on the second floor.

He gestured to the first door which stood ajar. “This is my bedroom. Feel free to stop by anytime.” He nudged the door open further as he grinned at her.

Nesta looked at him and refused to let her eyes wander past his shoulder. That was exactly what he wanted and she wasn’t going to play his game. She held his gaze with a hard glare of her own and then continued down the hallway.

Cassian chuckled as he easily caught up with her. “Mor and Az’s rooms, but they’re not here to object if you take one. Guest bath, guest bath, guest _room_ , and another guest room. This one actually has its own bath connected to it.”

“Great,” Nesta said, pushing the door open and dropping her work bag onto the bed. The fact that the bedroom had its own bathroom was a plus enough, but it being as far away as possible from Cassian was a little miracle that she thought the universe owed her.

Cassian followed and set the suitcase down at the foot of the bed. “There’s one more floor…if you’re interested in seeing the library.”

He left the room and it irritated her that he already knew the answer before she even said it.

Nesta debated whether or not to close her bedroom door and deny Cassian the acknowledgement that he knew anything about her. However small the insight was, it felt like a violation, especially since she hadn’t offered the fact willingly.

In the end, her love of books won out and when she reappeared in the hallway, she saw Cassian leaning against the railing at the end of the corridor, waiting for her.

“Needed a moment?”

Nesta’s spine tingled with fire. “Your big ego was sucking all of the air out of the room. I needed to catch my breath.”

Cassian’s grin widened, but he didn’t provide a remark which Nesta thought was oddly out of character for him. He simply stood up, stretched his arms over his head which revealed a slice of bronzed skin between his jeans and t-shirt, and began to climb the stairs.

He was trying to rile her up on purpose and she refused to fall for the bait.

The entire third floor of the house was half terrace that looked like it doubled as an outdoor living space, complete with outdoor sofas and loungers, and even another dining table, and a library. Any wall that wasn’t lined with floor to ceiling bookcases was a window.

The focus of the third floor, as was with the other floors, was the breathtaking view onto Lake Velaris, but Nesta was overcome by the stacks before her. Unlike the office where the bookshelves were all lined with trinkets and photos, the library was full of an extensive collection of books.

There was all the classics, bound in leather. Some, to Nesta’s surprise were even first or second editions, just sitting there waiting to be touched. There were old Californian almanacs and all types of history books. There were large atlases spanning decades and art books featuring well-known and obscure artists alike. And a quarter of the books were in different languages. Nesta counted at least five as she scanned the shelves.

She rounded one of the stacks and saw Cassian sitting in a window seat. His legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His arm was slung across the upholstered back of the seat and he was looking out the window, watching the trees rustle in the breeze.

His ear twitched when he heard her approaching and he turned to look at her. “Does it please the lady?”

Leave it to Cassian to ruin the first bit of real happiness Nesta had found since she had arrived. And no longer under the library’s spell, she crossed her arms.

“Why aren’t you in France?”

Cassian raised his eyebrow, amused, but also a little perplexed. “What an odd question to ask someone. Why aren’t _you_ in France?”

Nesta did not want to play this game with him. “Why aren’t you in France with Feyre and Rhys and…the others?”

“Oh.” He scratched his chin and the sound of his fingernails against his five o’clock shadow grated on Nesta’s nerves. “I was never in France with Feyre and Rhys and… _the others_.”

He grinned at her, then leaned his shoulder against the shelf next to him.

“Actually, I was in France with them, but only for a couple of days back in February. Have you ever been to Taillé? It’s a bit pretentious, but the risotto was top notch. That reminds me…” Cassian was on his feet in one graceful movement and was leaving Nesta behind as he descended the stairs.

Nesta rolled her eyes. It was rich that he would call anything pretentious considering the fact that they were currently quarantining themselves in a lake-side mansion.

She could hear him shuffling and moving things around on the first floor so she gave the library one final longing look, with the promise to return, and went downstairs.

In the kitchen, Cassian was putting things away. It looked as though he had been in the middle of doing so when Nesta had first arrived.

She walked slowly around the grey marble island, taking stock of the groceries and nearly stumbled over a crate of wine at her feet.

“You never answered my question,” she said, plucking a grape from its bunch.

Cassian looked back at her.

Was he really this dumb or was he trying to get under her skin?

“ _Why_ aren’t you in France with…your family?”

He shrugged. “Rhys was there because Feyre was. I think he was using the time to look for some real estate opportunities, and since Azriel’s his finance guy, he needed to be there to bless any deals. And Mor…just does whatever she wants, but if you ask her, she’d say as vice president, her role was crucial.”

“Don’t you work for Rhys, too?”

Cassian paused at putting the eggs away. “My _company_ works for Rhys’.”

“Your company? What does it do?” She had to admit, she was a little intrigued and paused to wonder if he had told her this before. Perhaps at some gathering or dinner she had been forced to attend.

The color on Cassian’s ears made her think her suspicions were true.

“Cyber security.” His answer was curt.

So she _could_ get under his skin.

“Like in…hacking and stuff?”

“Something like that.”

Maybe not so dumb after all.

“And your family asked you to stock the house with provisions in the anticipation of their arrival.”

“I volunteered.”

“But now they’re stuck in Europe and you’re stuck…with me.” It satisfied her to think he might be equally as unhappy as she was with this arrangement. 

Cassian turned to her, closing the fridge door behind him. The tension in his shoulders was gone, or perhaps it was never there to begin with. Maybe she had misread his body language because his usual arrogant grin had returned.

“I like to think we’re stuck here together.” He picked up a box of rigatoni. “Hungry?”

There was the tip of his tongue again, poking out of the corner of his smile.

Nesta bristled. “No,” she said before grabbing a banana from the bowl in front of her and turning on her heels to march upstairs.

She hoped she wouldn’t have to deal with him for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. And you can thank @zissa for proof reading chapter two and persuading me to post it now instead of a week from now. Two chapters in three days? Who even am I?
> 
> Comments and kudos always appreciated. I'm @regolithheart on Tumblr.


	3. Three

Nesta’s stomach woke her up with a grumble. It happened so suddenly that she had momentarily forgotten where she was. Shifting onto her back under the covers, she stared at the ceiling as her eyes adjusted to the light.

Dawn was her favorite part of the day, when the whole world was still quiet and dreamy.

When she was little, she used to wake up before any of her family just so she could pad around the house and enjoy the silence before people began racing up the stairs and banging doors open and shut. It was her time to be alone and she had loved it. Even when she had moved out for college and after, when she had gotten her own place, there was nothing like making a cup of tea in the morning and watching as the light shifted colors before starting her day.

Nesta stretched in the bed and let out a big sigh. She did not have the best night’s sleep.

It had always been hard for her to sleep somewhere new and with the added agitation of her situation and the fact that she only had a banana for dinner, despite not eating anything since yesterday’s breakfast, she was sure her exhaustion would manifest itself as bags under her eyes.

Still, she got out of bed, deciding that laying there for an extra hour wasn’t going to guarantee her any more rest.

She quickly straightened the sheets and comforter, never having been able to tolerate an unmade bed, and pulled on a lumpy cardigan before putting her hair up into a bun and opening the door to her bedroom.

Nesta almost didn’t see it at first, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw her tote bag full of books, sitting on the floor just outside her door. Cassian must have brought it up stairs for her the night before and she didn’t know how she felt about it. She dragged the bag into the room and shut the door, not wanting to dwell on what it meant, if anything.

She paused in the hallway. She had hoped she was going to be able to sneak downstairs and find something to eat before having to deal with Cassian for the day, but the smell of frying bacon wafting up from downstairs told her he had beaten her to it. For a second, she contemplated going back to her room, but her stomach rumbled angrily and she decided that she had proven her point last night.

Slowly, she walked towards the stairs.

Cassian’s bedroom door was open again, and since he was in the kitchen, Nesta let herself take a peak. Despite being decorated similarly to the rest of the house, there was something about it that made Nesta know it was his.

The framed photographs on the walls didn’t match the art in the rest of the house, there was a worn leather armchair tucked into the corner of the room, and an obviously well-loved quilt lay across the end of the bed, which was made—to Nesta’s surprise.

But the most interesting thing about the room was the low bookshelf that sat just beneath the window. In a million years, Nesta would never have guessed that Cassian was a records collector, but the proof was right in front of her. And between the records, each in its own plastic sleeve, was various personal effects: an old baseball, a jar of pebbles, a gnarled length of driftwood, a wooden box in-laid with a delicate pattern.

Cassian cleared his throat and the sound carried itself from the kitchen. Nesta jumped as if he had been standing right next to her, and without a second glance, she hurried down the stairs.

Nesta’s footsteps were light. It had been a running joke between her sisters who claimed that she was always able to sneak up on them, but as soon as she passed the living room, Cassian looked up from the stove.

“Morning,” he said, holding her stare for a second before returning his attention to the stove. He was done with the bacon and was now whisking eggs in a bowl.

She was expecting him to make one of his annoying comments—his attempt at flirting, or annoying her. She never knew which it was, but was glad when he didn’t.

Nesta watched as he ground black pepper into the bowl and tossed a pinch of salt in as well, as if he’d done this thousands of times before. He was still in his pajamas, which wasn’t a big departure from his normal outfit, but the faded grey t-shirt was so thin that the muscles in his back were hard to ignore and the dark grey sweats hung low on his hips.

Nesta didn’t let her eyes wonder any lower than the waistband.

Instead, she snapped her attention up to the back of his head. His hair was pulled back in that messy bun he liked to wear, but it was obvious he had slept in it because half of it had come undone and some of the tendrils were curling behind his ear. It felt oddly intimate seeing him like that, and she wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself to stave off a shiver.

“Coffee’s ready if you want some or there’s hot water for tea,” Cassian said, his back still turned to her.

Nesta walked to the kitchen island to see a plate of perfectly cooked bacon and a bowl of fruit salad.

“The mugs are above the coffee maker.”

On the back counter next to the refrigerator, was a coffee maker, an electric kettle, and to Nesta’s surprise, a brand new box of PG Tips.

Nesta picked up the box of tea, the plastic crinkling underneath her fingers and she wondered how Cassian knew. Feyre must have told him and it made her feel the slightest bit of guilt for being so angry with her yesterday.

She made herself a cup of tea and felt her mood instantly lighten.

“Breakfast?” Cassian asked, already scooping scrambled eggs onto a plate.

“Alright,” Nesta answered, trying to sound as indifferent as possible and hoping her stomach wouldn’t betray her.

She helped herself to the eggs, but when she began to crack extra black pepper on top of them, Cassian tried to stop her.

“They’re already perfect,” he said through a grin.

There was the arrogance that she had been expecting all morning.

She gave the pepper mill another couple of grinds out of spite and ignored his snort. With her plate full, Nesta pondered her seating choices and opted to sit at the counter. The dining table would make it feel like they were sharing a meal and that was definitely not what they were doing.

Taking a sip of tea to brace herself, she was ready to snap at him if he dared sit too close, but she didn’t know if she was more surprised or relieved when Cassian walked past her and out the kitchen door. She watched his retreating back as he strolled across the lawn, sat down in one of the Adirondack chairs and began eating his breakfast.

Nesta ate in silence, occasionally throwing a glance at Cassian’s back through the window.

He had practically inhaled his food, she noticed, and was now lounging in the chair, leisurely enjoying his coffee as the sun turned the sky pink and orange. She was slightly annoyed with herself that she hadn’t thought of the idea first, but was glad he’d left her alone. Sure it it was only their second day of quarantine, but she was hopeful that with the way things were progressing, she wouldn’t have to say more than ten words to him for the entire duration.

And Elain was coming today.

The thought boosted her spirits and she got up to load her dirty dishes into the washer and make herself another cup of tea, then headed upstairs to take a shower.

* * *

If the lake house had one drawback, besides Nesta’s current house mate, it was that her bathroom didn’t have a tub. The shower was spacious, bigger than the one in her apartment, but unlike the other bathrooms on the second floor, this one didn’t have a tub she could soak in.

Perhaps she could use the one in the master bathroom. It wasn’t as though anyone else was using it, or even the other free bathroom upstairs. Cassian had claimed the one next to his bedroom by the looks of the hair products on the counter, but the other one remained untouched.

As Nesta towel-dried her hair, she grabbed her phone, wondering if Elain had started the drive up yet. Sure enough, she had a missed call.

She punched in Elain’s number and waited.

She counted four rings and thought it was odd that Elain hadn’t picked up. On the sixth ring, she was ready to hang up when Elain’s breathless voice answered.

“Nesta, hi.”

“Hi, Lainey. Is everything okay?” Nesta rarely used her nickname for her sister, but from Elain’s strained voice, she instantly knew something wasn’t right.

“I… yeah. Everything is fine.” Elain paused for a second, but when she spoke again, her voice regained its usual exuberance. “What’s the house like? Is it gorgeous?”

Nesta let her unease go. “Honestly? And I will deny it if you dare tell anyone I said it, but yeah. It’s amazing.”

“I knew it! I told—”

Not one to concede fully, Nesta interrupted. “Except for one major flaw.”

“Oh?”

“I can’t enjoy it fully because I’m stuck here with an insufferable man.”

“Oh come on, Nes. Cassian’s not that bad.” Elain tried to hide her giggle.

“Lainey, he has a man-bun. What self-respecting thirty-year-old has a man-bun?”

“I don’t know… but he pulls it off. I actually think it’s kind of sexy.”

Nesta closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was hard enough to accept that her sisters were living with their respective boyfriends—fiancé in Feyre’s case—but she had refused to acknowledge the fact that they did anything beyond kissing. They were still her baby sisters after all.

“Do you think he sleeps shirtless? I bet he sleeps shirtless, if not—“

“Elain!”

Elain gigged again. “Come on, Nesta. Stop being such a prude.”

“I’m not a prude. I just don’t—”

“I can hear you blushing.” The delight in Elain’s voice made Nesta’s cheeks flush, and before Nesta could pivot the conversation, Elain gasped. “You’ve already seen him shirtless haven’t you?

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I haven’t.” Nesta wouldn’t allow herself to remember the shape of Cassian’s back beneath the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

“Well… it’s bound to happen sooner or later, you know,” Elain said matter-of-factly and then her voice turned dreamy. “Two hot people stuck in quarantine together… I bet Feyre’s engagement ring that you’ll see him shirtless before this thing is over. Promise you’ll tell me if he’s a good kisser.”

Having enough of Elain’s distraction, Nesta let out an exasperated breath, loud enough for her sister to hear. “Are you on the road yet?”

Elain’s giggles turned into a quiet and reluctant sigh.

“Elain?”

“We’re… still at home.”

“And when are you planning on driving up?”

“Well, the thing is…”

Nesta waited for Elain to finish her sentence, her patience slipping.

“The thing is,” Elain began again. “Graysen’s really busy at work right now, and—“

“Then he can stay in L.A. while you come up here.”

“Nesta…”

“No, Elain.” Nesta’s anger was a ball of lava in the pit of her stomach threatening to boil over. “We all agreed. You, me, Feyre. We all promised each other and I’m the only one who kept my end of the bargain. An Archeron _never_ breaks her promise, remember?”

“Nesta, I’m sorry! But the situation is more complicated than that.” Elain’s voice was getting higher which meant that she was getting frustrated.

Good.

“It’s not. I’m coming to get you.” Nesta was already on her feet, looking for her bag.

“No, you’re not.”

“Fine! Then I’m going home.” She huffed at she reached under her bed to grab her suitcase.

“You’re not doing that either.”

“Elain!”

“Nesta!” Elain’s anger matched her sister’s, but she took a deep breath and when she spoke again, her voice was much more calm. “You can’t leave Cassian there by himself.”

Nesta could feel her hand begin to shake with rage as she clutched her phone to hear ear. “I don’t care about _Cassian_. I care about you. And Feyre.”

Elain’s voice was gentle now which did nothing to make Nesta feel better. “I know you do. And we care about you, which is why you should stay at the lake house. We don’t want you in your apartment by yourself for… who knows how long.”

Nesta wanted to scream. “You already told Feyre. You told her before you told me.”

“I tried calling you earlier. Don’t be mad at us.”

But it was already too late.

“Nesta?” Elain asked. Her voice was soft, and fragile. “I’m sorry. I really, really am. If anything changes with Graysen’s work, we’ll drive up there. I prom—“

“Don’t.” Nesta hated how her voice trembled.

“Call me—or Feyre—if you need anything. Or just because…” Elain let out another soft sigh. “I love you.”

Elain waited for Nesta to say something, but she didn’t have anything to say. It was as though all of her words had been burned up by her anger and the ashes made her throat dry.

“I’m sorry,” Elain said again, before ending the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Cassian's POV.


	4. Four

After putting the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, Cassian wiped down the kitchen island and headed upstairs for a shower. He could hear the water running all the way from Nesta’s bathroom and prayed that she hadn’t used up all the hot water. He wouldn’t have put it past her to do so, just to spite him.

His lip curled, as he tucked away that bit of retaliation to use against her if she was getting too unbearable. Leave it to the universe to stick him in a house with the most infuriating person on the face of the planet and with nothing to arm himself.

Cassian had been equally as annoyed as she was when she found out that they were the only two at the house. He had seen it through her car window as her body tensed with the news he’d only gotten two hours prior. He had seen her mouth a series of curse words—the same ones that he had bellowed at Rhys and Azriel on the phone—and it brought him a little bit of satisfaction.

She didn’t even have the curtesy to greet him when she had gotten out of her car and the way she looked at him with that ice cold stare had him second guessing himself. That was her power over him and he hated it. He hated that he had offered up his name as though they hadn’t met dozens of times, like they had never talked before or sat next to each other at dinner.

He had regretted it the moment his name escaped his lips—jumped out as if on its own accord. And what was worse was the way she had looked at him afterwards, like he was simple. It had put him on edge and so he resorted to what he knew best, what he knew would ruffle her feathers and put him back on equal ground. As if that were ever a thing with Nesta Archeron.

From the moment they had met—no, from the moment Cassian had laid eyes on her, he had lost any footing he had.

* * *

**_Fourteen Months Ago_ **

Cassian drummed his fingers on the back-lit onyx bar and waited for the bartender to approach him.

“Whiskey Sour,” he said, grinning at the pretty brunette behind the counter.

Her return smile was coy but Cassian caught her eyes linger at the skin beneath the unbuttoned top of his dress shirt. He winked at her before she turned to make his drink.

As he waited, he took a moment to look around the room. Rhys had outdone himself with his newest project—a bar and saki lounge in downtown Los Angeles. Although Cassian did think the onyx bar and crystal chandelier in the shape of falling sakura blossoms was a bit much, he had to admit it was the perfect place to host a New Year’s Eve party.

“Your drink, _sir_ ,” the bartender said, placing the crystal tumbler on top of a cocktail napkin before nudging it towards him.

He wanted to laugh at the formality, but instead, he picked up the glass, tipped it towards her, and took a long sip.

“I didn’t peg you for a cocktail kind of guy,” a voice said. Its owner slid into the seat next to him and motioning the bartender for another round.

Feyre’s eyes were twinkling when he tilted his head towards her.

“I’m pacing myself. The night is still young.” He winked at her and then downed his drink.

Feyre rolled her eyes, but the turn of her lips showed her amusement. It didn’t last long, however, because she glanced down at her watch and began twisting it around her wrist.

When the bartender came back, she had another drink for Cassian and two fingers of vodka for Feyre. Feyre nodded her thanks and knocked her drink back.

“Whoa there Archeron, you okay over there?”

“Fine.” She gave a nervous chuckle. “I’m just…a little nervous. Nesta’s coming and…”

Cassian laughed and placed a reassuring hand on Feyre’s shoulder. “Relax. We’re all looking forward to meeting your sister. We’ve already met Elain and she’s great.”

Feyre let out a breath. “Nesta is not Elain. She’s—“

But what Nesta was, Cassian didn’t hear because the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on had just walked into the bar. Her golden brown hair was swept into a simple chignon and while everyone was dressed in sequins and ruffles, she was radiant in a simple black dress.

Her eyes scanned the room and when they fell upon Cassian, she gave a small smile and began walking towards him.

He straightened immediately, wondering how she knew him. That wasn’t a face he could easily forget and if she hadn’t been on her way to him that very second, he was sure his feet would have taken him to her on their own accord. She seemed so familiar, but he knew they hadn’t met before and he wondered if perhaps he’d met her in another time—another life.

Cassian swallowed when she stopped in front of him.

No, not him. Feyre.

“Nesta,” Feyre said, getting out of her seat and hugging her sister.

Cassian wanted to laugh.

Seeing the women side-by-side, it was unmistakable that the vision in front of him was Feyre’s sister. They had the same cheekbones and the same nose with the same dusting of freckles, but Nesta’s chin was sharper and more refined, and her eyes.

Feyre’s eyes were a shimmery blue that reflected confidence and a hint of mischief, but Nesta’s eyes…Nesta’s eyes were a storm of fire and ice and it almost hurt to look at.

Before Cassian had a chance to introduce himself, Elain came up to them and encased Nesta in her arms, pulling Feyre in too. Looking at the three sisters, he felt his cheeks warm.

While Feyre was gorgeous, no doubt about it, Elain was stunning. With her soft features and doe eyes, Cassian had seen the way men looked at her—were looking at her now. He counted two of them at the other end of the bar, calculating their chances and it made him feel protective over her.

But Nesta was _breathtaking_. It was the sort of breathtaking that hurt, like taking a big gulp of winter air. And surprisingly, Cassian found himself at a loss for words.

When she finally looked up and saw him staring, her eyes narrowed dangerously and he almost took an involuntary step backwards.

Noticing who was at the end of her sister’s glare, Feyre released herself from the hug and reached over to grab Cassian’s arm, pulling him closer.

“Nes, this is Rhys’ friend, Cassian. Well, they’re more like brothers, really.”

“Hi there,” Cassian said, mustering up his most charming smile. He made sure to touch his tongue to his bottom lip and quirked the right corner of his mouth up to expose his dimples. It was his signature move and had yet to fail him.

But there was a first time for everything.

Nesta’s eyes were quick. Flicking from his smile to his hair to his eyes and then the slightest fraction up to the scar on his right eyebrow.

In reality, it must have taken all of two seconds, but under Nesta’s scrutiny, Cassian felt like he had been sitting under an interrogation lamp.

When she finally spoke, it was slow and even toned. “Hello.”

Cassian’s smile felt plastered on his face and he waited for her to say something else.

She didn’t.

He cleared his throat, readying to offer her a drink, but before he could do so, Mor bounded up to the group, crashing into him. He placed a steadying hand on her hip.

“Hi! You must be Nesta. I’m Morrigan. Rhys’ cousin, but you can call me Mor!” Mor practically stuck her hand in Nesta’s face, her golden bangles clashing against each other as she did so.

Cassian felt the ice in Nesta’s assessment as she scanned Mor from head to toe and back up again, taking in the slinky red dress and gold hoop earrings as large as the bangles on her wrist. Her eyes snagged on the placement of Cassian’s hand. He let go immediately.

“I’m getting a drink,” Nesta said.

It had not been an invitation.

She gave each of her sisters a squeeze on the shoulder and turned to the bartender to order a gin and tonic.

Mor scoffed and pulled her rejected hand back to flip her blonde curls over her shoulder. She tugged on Cassian’s arm. “Come on, Cass. We should go save Az from Helion.”

He threw one last glance back at Nesta, now sitting alone at the bar, and allowed Mor to drag him away.

Cassian had let Mor lead him around the party the rest of the night. They managed to rescue Azriel from Helion who proceeded to proposition all three of them and gave them a gravely chuckle as they shooed him away. He was nearly assaulted by Feyre’s friend Clare who had leaned in much too close to breathe her name into his ear. And he and Azriel had two saki bombs each, despite Rhys’ warning them not to.

“That’s a brand new onyx countertop you’re slamming your shot glasses into,” Rhys had complained, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, we’re breaking it in for you.”

Yet all the while, Cassian found his attention honing in on Nesta. No matter where he was in the room and his proximity to her, he was able to find her with ease. It was a like a tug in his chest, as if he was a compass and she was true North.

It was a bit unsettling. He had never experienced this with anyone before. Especially not someone he’d just met and who had said one single word to him. He felt ridiculous. She had only said one word to him and here he was, unable to resist whatever spell she had cast on him.

He did his best to ignore her, despite his wandering eyes. He saw Nesta talking to Clare and when the redhead nodded in his direction, he quickly turned away. He saw when Elain pull Nesta onto the makeshift dance floor and watched as she allowed herself a couple of sways and a twirl before blending back into the crowd. And he counted at least three men who had attempted to talk to her with varying degrees of success, but all eventually retreated, tails between their legs.

All night he had watched her from across the room, with a sea of people laughing and chattering between them and not once had she looked in his direction. So it had come to a complete surprise to him when he sidled to the bar to order himself a drink and found her just on the other side, watching.

He would have offered to buy her a drink, but the gin and tonic in front of her looked fresh so he thanked the bartender after receiving his whiskey—not breaking Nesta’s eye contact—and eased into the seat next to hers.

“Enjoying yourself?” Cassian asked, taking a sip.

She shrugged, taking a sip of her own drink and cast her eyes over the room.

She wasn’t going to make this easy on him, was she?

“You’re an architect, right? What do you—“

Nesta turned sharply to face him. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

Her beauty must have short-circuited his brain. “Girlfriend? I don’t have…” but then realization dawned on him. “You mean _Mor_?” He laughed. “Mor is _not_ my girlfriend.”

“But you’ve slept with her.” It wasn’t a question.

Cassian was incredulous. “I…how did…Not that it’s any of your business, but did Feyre—“

“Feyre didn’t tell me anything.”

Cassian simply stared at her. “How’d you…”

She smiled, but it wasn’t affectionate like Elain’s or spirited like Feyre’s. Nesta’s smile was shrewd and wicked.

She shrugged again.

“Maybe I’m a witch,” she said, picking up her glass. “Or maybe you’re not that good at hiding that dopey look on your face when she’s around.”

Again she left him at the bar, and again he was at a loss for words.

* * *

**_Eight Months Ago_ **

“Ready? One, two, three.”

Cassian grunted as he picked up Feyre’s cream-colored sofa.

“Got it, Az?” He asked, looking over the sofa’s arm to Azriel on the other end.

“Where did Feyre get this thing? It weighs a ton.”

Cassian silently agreed as he gritted his teeth and tightened his grip.

Cassian threw glances behind him as he guided them through the living room and kitchen, steering the sofa and Azriel between random boxes on the floor. He gave an irritated huff.

In an attempt to avoid crashing into a gaudy green lamp, he miscalculated and backed right into the outside corner of the kitchen island.

He hissed.

“You okay?” Azriel’s muffled voice came from the other end of the massive sofa, the top of his head barely visible.

“Yeah.” Cassian grunted, knowing he was going to see a bruise on his thigh the next day.

When they finally made it to the front hallway, Cassian swore.

“A little help?!” He hollered to no one in particular and hoped that someone could hear him from upstairs.

Silence, and then the sound of thunderous feet came barreling down the steps and Feyre squeezed between the sofa and the wall to open the front door for them.

Cassian was grateful that Feyre lived on the ground floor of her apartment building and the U-Haul she had rented was parked just outside. But for the fifth time that morning, he had wished she’d taken Rhys up on his offer to hire a moving company.

After setting the sofa down next to the growing pile of boxes, Cassian massaged the hip that had just rammed into Feyre’s granite countertop.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this.”

Azriel’s smile was full of amusement. “Because Feyre asked us to help and you can’t resist a damsel in distress.”

“You’re one to talk!” Cassian swiped at Azriel, but his friend was too quick. “All I’m saying is where’s her _boyfriend_? It’s his house she’s moving into!”

Azriel’s chuckle was taunting. “What’s the matter? First the sofa is too heavy for you and now your reflexes are too slow.”

Azriel always knew what to say to get Cassian riled up and he swiped again, this time clipping Az in shoulder but with no real malice behind the punch. Azriel returned the jab and retreated out of reach.

Back inside, the hallway was empty. Azriel must have disappeared upstairs to bring down whatever boxes were ready. Cassian gave himself a minute alone, letting the air conditioning ripple his skin with goosebumps. Leave it to Feyre to choose the hottest day of the year to move into Rhys’ house.

On his way to join the others, Cassian swung by the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and stopped dead in his tracks.

Sitting at the kitchen table, lazily turning a page in her book was Nesta.

“Where you sitting there the whole time?” He asked her incredulously, feeling the throb in his hip intensify.

Not looking up, she gave him a noise of confirmation.

“And you didn’t bother to get up and help? I almost broke my neck over an ugly green lamp!”

Nesta still did not look up at him. “What’s the point of those muscles if you can’t carry something heavy every now and then?”

Hot and irritated, Cassian grumbled through gritted teeth. “What’s the point of being here if you’re just going to sit there and be unhelpful?”

“I’m supervising. Making sure _you_ don’t ruin Feyre’s security deposit.”

He hated the way she emphasized the word. He knew she was doing it on purpose to get a rise out of him, and so he retaliated the only way he knew how.

Changing tactics, he walked towards her, taking long easy strides. “Wow, that book must be really interesting. What’s it about?”

Nesta didn’t answer.

When he was close enough to smell her perfume—a mix of roses and pears with a hint of spice—he saw her back stiffen the tiniest fraction, but if she were uncomfortable, he didn’t hear it in her voice.

“Do you even know how to read?”

Cassian’s grin was wide, delighted as his eyes landed on the page. “Enough to know that ‘Cassandra’s breasts heaved with want’ and that ‘her skin was alight with fire from the darkened look Victor gave her.’”

Nesta snapped the book shut, glaring at him.

“Tell me, Nesta. Does Victor’s darkened look make your breasts heave?”

The look in Nesta’s eyes was one of pure murder and knowing he’d at least won this round, Cassian strode out of the kitchen to join the others upstairs.

* * *

**_Six Months Ago_ **

Cassian straightened his collar and allowed Rhys to hand him a flute of champagne. He grinned broadly at his brother and clapped him on the back. “Congratulations, man.”

Rhys’ eyes were twinkling. “Thanks. Can you believe it?”

“That you managed to find someone willing to marry you?” Cassian grinned. “Never in a million years.”

Rhys’ chuckle was deep and when he looked up, Cassian didn’t need to confirm who Rhys was looking at with such adoration. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

He brought a hand up to his heart and Cassian humored him by turning his head towards Feyre.

On the other side of Rhys’ expansive backyard, beneath fairy lights strung in the trees, Feyre stood with her sisters.

Cassian watched as Nesta tucked a loose tendril of hair behind Feyre’s ear.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Rhys asked, his voice still dreamy.

Cassian knew they weren’t looking at the same Archeron sister, but he answered, “Yeah.”

In the nine months since Rhys and Feyre’s New Year’s Eve party, Cassian had seen Nesta a handful of times and with each meeting, she had managed to irritate him even more than the previous one. The last time he had seen her, they had such a heated argument over a game of Pictionary that Feyre had banned the game from ever being played again and even threw the box, contents and all, into the trash.

Nesta had refused to talk to him for the rest of the night and he had decided then and there that her sole purpose on Earth was to drive him crazy. He vowed never to give her an inch if he wasn’t also ready to cede a mile and he would not let her take anything he wasn’t willing to give her.

But sometimes, especially when he was caught off guard, just looking at her could make him go weak in the knees.

That was the thing he disliked most about Nesta Archeron, how she always managed to throw him off balance, without even trying.

Thankfully, Cassian managed to avoid her all night. Even during dinner, Nesta had not sat at the head table as they celebrated Feyre and Rhys’ engagement. Instead, she had opted to sit next to her father, a couple of tables away. And when everyone took turns making speeches, she was noticeably missing.

Not that he was looking for her.

As the party wound down and Cassian suddenly found himself the only person left in the kitchen besides the caterers cleaning up, he poured himself a whiskey and headed to the back patio. He was surprised to see Nesta sitting on the edge of a pool lounger, looking out at the pacific ocean. He had assumed she had left much earlier.

He couldn’t decide if he should join her or slip back inside unnoticed, but before he could make up his mind, his feet were already carrying him towards the pool. He hesitated, but sat down in the lounger next to her.

“Drink?” He offered lamely, knowing she wouldn’t accept it.

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t ignore him entirely either, which was always a real possibility. Instead, she gave him a quiet look and returned to her vigil of the sea.

“So I take it you don’t like speeches?”

Cassian didn’t know why he couldn’t just stand up and walk away. Perhaps because it had been three weeks since he’d last seen her and while he told himself he was glad of it, he also couldn’t deny the irritation in his chest that she hadn’t said a single word to him, or even glanced his way, all night.

Without looking at him, Nesta answered. “No one cares what I think.”

The irony was delicious and Cassian grinned as he raised his glass to his lips. “That hasn’t stopped you before.”

She whipped her head to him, gaze as sharp and deadly as a dagger. “Doesn’t it bother you that he’s _ten years_ older than her? She was eight when he graduated high school.”

Cassian swallowed, the whiskey burning it’s way down. “They’re both consenting adults.”

She scoffed. “Typical.”

“Aren’t they?”

Nesta shook her head. “Feyre’s turning _twenty-two_ in December.” Again, Nesta turned back to look at the ocean. “She’s still a baby.”

Cassian understood the need to protect those he loved. In college, he had broken an arm trying to break up a fight between his brothers and a group of drunk frat boys. And he still had the scar cut into his right eyebrow from an encounter with a bully when they were all fourteen.

And maybe if Cassian were in Nesta’s shoes he would feel differently. But he had sat next to his friends all night—saw the love and devotion reflected in both of their eyes. He had even felt a tiny pang of jealously. But he knew Rhys, felt like he knew Feyre too, and Nesta was just wrong.

“They love each other.”

He felt rather than saw her stiffen.

“Can’t you be happy for them?”

He thought he had managed to persuade her when she let out a small sigh, but that was just wishful thinking. He should have known that Nesta was never going to make things easy.

When she spoke again, her voice was hard.

“Go away.”


	5. Five

Cassian shuffled through his dresser to find clothes to change into. It would be so easy to throw on a pair of clean sweats, but he didn’t want to resort to that. It was only day two of their self-isolation and if he wasn’t careful, it would be a slippery slope. Besides, he could just imagine the look of distain on Nesta’s face to see him walking around in pajamas in the middle of the day.

His phone buzzed on the bed behind him and picking it up, he saw Rhys was on the other line. Cassian grinned as he accepted the FaceTime call.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Good morning!” He heard Mor’s voice calling back although out of view from the camera and distant but cheerful.

Rhys shook his head. “It’s 4:30pm here.”

Leaning back against his headboard, Cassian shrugged. “Sorry, I’m not on Parisian-time. Seeing as I’m in Sonoma right now with a woman who hates my guts. Have I thanked you recently for that?”

Rhys gave him a wry smile. “You can take your grievances up with France and the U.S. government. Do you want Macron’s number?”

Cassian snorted. “Yeah, text it to me.” He wouldn’t have been surprised if Rhys really did have the French President’s personal number.

There was a moment of silence before Cassian raised an eyebrow.

“So….to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

The corner of Rhys’ mouth quirked up, but there was no amusement on his face. He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Cassian held up a hand to stop him.

“No. If you’re going to give me bad news, I want it from one of the girls or Az. At least then I can take comfort from their beautiful faces. “

Rhys rolled his eyes, but again, he was interrupted.

Cassian watched the phone shuffle between hands and caught a glimpse of the ceiling of Rhys and Feyre’s pied-à-terre and the blue Parisian sky beyond. Soon, he was looking at Feyre.

“Hey.” Her smile was too sweet and she had drawn out her vowels for too long.

Cassian’s reply was cautious. “Feyre. What’s up?”

Her eyes flickered to someone off screen before smiling even wider at Cassian. “So listen. I just got off the phone with Elain and she and Graysen are actually staying in L.A. for the time being.”

Cassian dragged his free hand down the length of his face, groaning.

If there had been any saving grace in his current predicament, it was that Elain and her boyfriend were on there way up. At least then Nesta would have been appeased and he’d have more people to talk to. It was hard to strike up a conversation with someone who only answered in single word sentences or told him to eat shit half of the time.

He had even been prepared to make friends with Graysen—who was maybe the most boring person Cassian had ever met.

_Graysen. Was that his name? Why did he think it was Gregory?_

Cassian shook his head. “I gotta tell you, Feyre. You guys are really screwing me over, here.”

“I’m sorry!” Her voice was pleading. “If there was any other way—“

“I know, I know. It’s fine.” He knew they weren’t doing it on purpose, but it still didn’t stop the bubble of irritation that was building in the pit of his stomach. “Just tell Rhys that he better be prepared to sell this house at half it’s market value because there’s a good chance your sister is going to murder me in my sleep. I’m leaving all of my records to Az.”

“Hey!” He heard Mor object in the background.

“You can also tell your fiancé that he has surrendered his entire booze collection and I remember seeing a bottle of McCallan 1926 the last time I checked.” Cassian was starting to feel better just thinking about the prospect.

Rhys shoved his face into view. “Cassian, don’t you _dare_.”

“What? I can’t hear you over my emotional distress. Gotta go drown my sorrows in a fancy bottle of whiskey.”

“ _Cassian_ ,” Rhys threatened again.

But Feyre had elbowed him out of the frame and looked at Cassian one more time. “There’s one more thing.”

Cassian raised his eyebrow.

“Elain is giving Nesta the news any minute now and you might want to avoid her for a little while.”

“This is why I’m not going to feel bad for drinking the McCallan.”

“I’m sorry, Cass.” Feyre’s smile was weak.

“Yeah. I gotta go find a hiding spot now. If I don’t make it out alive, it was nice knowing ya.”

He saw various arms waving at him and a received a chorus of goodbyes before he hung up.

_Shit, shit, shit._

Abandoning the idea of a shower, Cassian tip-toed out of his room and threw a glance down the hallway. Nesta’s bedroom door was closed and he didn’t hear her angry voice coming from the other side. Quickly, he snuck downstairs and headed towards the gym.

He figured he’d be safe in there.

* * *

After ninety minutes in the gym and sauna, Cassian decided it was safe to come out. He had heard Nesta’s angry footfalls on the stairs fifteen minutes earlier, but it had been quiet after that.

As he passed the door to the office, he heard the scrape of a chair against the wooden floors, a thud, and Nesta cursing.

“Damnit!”

Cassian was all too happy to ignore the commotion, but before he got to the stairs, he heard the sound of something falling to the ground with a thud and Nesta’s long, defeated sigh.

Running a hand through his hair, he sent a silent apology to his future self and turned around to knock on the office door.

“What?” Nesta’s answer was curt.

He opened the door slowly, allowing himself a peak into the room in case Nesta felt like throwing something at him. He still remembered the day Pictionary was banned.

“Do you need some help?”

Nesta was on her knees. Her work bag was laying on its side, it’s contents scattered across the floor.

Cassian picked up a highlighter that had rolled to his feet. He began picking up random pens and markers on his way closer to her. She took them silently from him and stuffed them into her work bag, not sparing a glance his way.

“I can’t find the wifi password.”

He was amused for a moment until he realized he didn’t know what the password was either. They had set up the lake house’s internet years ago and everyone had saved it on their devices and promptly forgot it. Come to think of it, he really should update the password and run a security check on the house’s connections. He made a mental note to himself.

“Did you check the back of the router?” He had warned Rhys not to leave the password taped there, but wouldn’t have been surprised if his friend ignored his advice.

“Of course I did.”

“And?”

“And I wouldn’t be talking to you if it had worked, would I?” Nesta crossed her arms over her chest.

Cassian ignored her scowl and marched over to the desk to take a look himself. Sure enough, there was a sticker with the default password stuck behind the router. They couldn’t have been _that_ lazy, could they?

“May I?” Cassian asked, gesturing to Nesta’s laptop opened on the desk.

“Sure. Go ahead and waste my time.”

Cassian ignored that too and punched in the password. A error ping sounded followed closely by a snort from Nesta behind him.

Drumming his fingers against the wooden desk, he searched his memory, trying to recall if they had ever written the password down. He began pulling out the desk drawers and shuffling through its contents. Not that there was much to look through. He would have been surprised if Rhys did any actual work in that room.

In the drawers Cassian found a stack of business cards, a letter opener, an empty leather bound notebook with gold gilded pages, a cigar trimmer and two cigars still in their plastic sleeves, but no sign of a wifi password.

He could image Nesta rolling her eyes at him, but when he looked up, he found that she wasn’t paying him any attention at all. Instead, she was on the other side of the room, looking at the framed pictures on the bookshelves and running a delicate finger across one of the photos, lost in her thoughts.

And that’s when Cassian finally remembered.

He reached over to the black and white photo of a woman and teenage girl, both with thick dark hair andmatching brilliant smiles. The silver frame was heavy and well-polished. Turning it over, Cassian unlatched the back and revealed a yellow sticky note with Rhys’ tiny, yet neat handwriting.

“All set,” Cassian said, setting the photo back in it’s place on the desk.

“Who’s that?” Nesta asked as she watched him.

He hesitated. “Rhys’ mother and sister.”

Nesta was silent. Feyre must have told her what happened six years ago and he was glad he didn’t have to. It still made his heart ache just thinking about it.

Cassian cleared his throat and stood up to leave. Before closing the door behind him, he heard Nesta say, “Thank you.”

* * *

Nesta splashed water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked pale and the smudges under her eyes showed just how tired she really was. Sighing, she redid her braid and pinned it back in its usual crown, smoothing the flyaways down with her damp fingertips.

There. It wasn’t much, but it was an improvement.

She had escaped to her room for a moment after getting off a two-and-a-half hour conference call where the majority of it was taken up by Devlon and their client’s anecdotes about their second day of self-isolation and lamenting the fact that they were going to be missing a lot of golf. She had gritted her teeth through the whole thing, but remained silent.

Her only saving grace was the little satisfaction of knowing she was billing the client for this meeting and the more he droned on about the eighth hole at Pebble Beach, the more he was being charged.

She took a deep breath and began making her way back downstairs, to the long list of unread emails she had ignored all day.

Cassian’s bedroom door was ajar again.

_God, did he ever close it?_

Slowing down, she chanced a peak inside. His laptop sat open on the otherwise orderly bed, but he was nowhere to be seen.

When Nesta got back to the office, she crossed her arms and looked suspiciously around the room.

Next to her laptop, sitting on a coaster was a gin and tonic.

She glanced down at her watch. It was 5 o’lock on the dot and she wondered if Cassian had been waiting to hear her footsteps coming down the stairs. She didn’t see him in the living room or hear him in the kitchen and that annoyed her.

Pushing the drink away, she was even more annoyed when she saw that it was exactly how she liked—with a twist of lemon and an extra slice for good measure. She didn’t want to think about what it meant that Cassian knew her favorite drink, or how he knew it.

Instead, she focused on her mountain of emails. Half of them were office-wide emails, reminding everyone to be safe and to reach out to their clients to let them of their new Work From Home procedures and all of the additional spreadsheets and reports that they needed to keep up to date now that people were no longer in the office. It was exhausting to shift through. But then an email from Devlon made her pound her fist on the desk.

The ice from the gin and tonic tinkled.

She dialed Devlon’s number, nostrils flaring at every ring. He picked up on the fourth one.

“Are you _kidding_ me?!”

Devlon’s voice was even-toned. “I had no choice.”

“But, Eris? I said anyone _but_ him!”

“You do remember that I’m _your_ boss, right?”

Nesta didn’t reply, just seethed.

“Listen, I know it’s not ideal. I wouldn’t have put him on the Carver project at all but…” he sighed. “Tamlin put a hold on Rose Hall and I’m in a staffing bind.”

“Can’t you shift some other people around?”

Devlon was not amused. “I need to find projects for eight people.”

“I’ll take Amren.”

“Good. Then you _have_ to take Eris, too. He’s the only one on the viz team that’s available and can do the work.”

Nesta huffed. “Fine. But he needs to be reminded that I’m the Project Architect and he answers to me.”

“Don’t we all?”

Nesta hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair, still annoyed. She was glad Amren was now on her team, but she wasn’t looking forward to babysitting Eris.

Looking up, she saw the photo of Rhys’ mother and sister smiling at her. She averted her eyes.

She hated that room.

For an office, it was surprisingly lacking. She had only been able to find one single pen in the whole entire room and it was a Mont Blanc fountain pen. Judging by the weight, no doubt it was made of platinum.

The rest of the room was more of a treasure chest of knick-knacks, travel paraphernalia, and photos. So many framed photos.

She had perused them earlier that day when Cassian was looking for the wi-fi password and her eyes had snagged on a photo sitting in a simple wood frame. It was all of them: Rhys, Cassian, Azriel, Mor, and Feyre.

Nesta had not been able to tell where the photo had been taken. Judging from what they were wearing, they could have been anywhere at any time. To anyone else it would have just been a typical photo of a group of friends, but it had struck Nesta to see how happy they all were, especially Feyre. Rhys’ arm was around her waist, but Feyre’s head was leaning on Mor’s shoulder. And her sister’s arm was stretched behind the blonde, her hand clasping Cassian’s.

Nesta couldn’t recall if she, Elain, and Feyre had ever a photo similar to that one. Maybe they did before, but certainly not after their mother…

She snapped her laptop shut, revealing the gin and tonic she had nudged aside earlier. The ice had began to melt, but she finished it in three gulps.

* * *

Nesta found Cassian in the kitchen. Not that she had been looking for him.

She was returning her glass and he just happened to be there, pulling items from the fridge. The sound of ice clinking against the tumbler made him look up.

He raised his eyebrow, but his smile was soft.

“Looks like you could use another.”

Given the day that Nesta had, she agreed.

Cassian held out his hand and Nesta placed the glass into his awaiting palm.

She was surprised when he put the dirty glass into the sink and watched as he deftly prepared her a new drink in a clean one. She was even impressed when he managed to carve the perfect sliver of lemon peel with the large chef’s knife in his hand and gave it a delicate twist before nestling it into the ice and handing her the drink.

Nesta took a sip. It was perfect.

“Thank you.”

Cassian made a noise in the back of his throat. “So are you going to be eating dinner tonight?” His tone was casual and he didn’t look up at her as he organized the food on the counter.

She hesitated, but he was being nice so she could at least try to be civil. “What are you making?”

He finally looked up at her, his grin wide, canines gleaming as he held up a parcel wrapped in butcher’s paper. “Steaks!”

“Isn’t that a little extravagant?”

“You’ve never heard of steak night Wednesday?” He grinned at his own joke. “We’re celebrating.”

“What are we celebrating?”

There was that grin again and Nesta blamed the heat rising in her chest on the two gin and tonics she’d had.

“We’re celebrating the fact that I just broke into Rhys’ prized whiskey collection.” He nodded to a bottle that other than the color of the liquid—a deep, dark caramel—and the label that said _Years 60 Old,_ didn’t look like anything special to Nesta.

Cassian could tell she was unimpressed. “ _That_ is a $75,000 bottle of Scotch.”

Nesta laughed. “You’re shitting me!”

“I would never joke about McCallan.”

Nesta picked up the bottle to examine it further. It was heavier than she had expected it to be. The label was thick and had a beautiful texture that was imprinted with a gold border, but she still couldn’t believe that she was holding a bottle of alcohol that was worth a year’s salary.

“So what do you say, Nesta Archeron? Have dinner with me tonight.”

She looked at him. At the checkered button down with the sleeves rolled up, and his hair which was half pulled back in a knot. His smile was easy and the light from the setting sun streaming into the kitchen made his eyes glow amber.

He cleaned up nice. It wasn’t the first time Nesta had noticed, but it always took her by surprise.

“Okay,” she said and took a sip of her drink—an excuse to avert her eyes.

“Great! You can start on the potatoes.”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“The potatoes.” Cassian repeated, pointing to a bag of small yellow potatoes.

Nesta started backing away from the island. “No. No one said I had to cook.”

“Boiling potatoes isn’t exactly rocket science.” Cassian looked amused. “Just grab those potatoes, wash them, fill that pot with water, and wait.”

Nesta eyed the potatoes. “How many?”

Cassian shrugged. “Ten? Eleven?”

Nesta grabbed the bag and pulled out twelve golf-sized potatoes.

_Eleven. What kind of maniac was he?_

When the pot was on the stove, Cassian tossed in two healthy pinches of salt into the water.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“That’s it? How long until they’re done?”

Cassian looked at her incredulous. “Have you really never boiled potatoes before?”

Nesta didn’t answer. It wasn’t as though she had _never_ boiled potatoes before, but the few times she deigned to cook, she always followed a step-by-step recipe to the tee.

“When the water starts boiling, poke them with a fork. If they’re soft, they’re done and if not give them a couple more minutes.”

She nodded.

“In the meantime, turn the oven on to 400 and relax.”

Nesta let her shoulders drop. She hadn’t realized how tense she was.

When the potatoes were done, Cassian strained them and dumped them all onto a sheet tray.

“Now here’s the fun part,” he said, grabbing a wooden spoon. “Take this spoon and press it into the potatoes like this. Really smash it.”

He demonstrated and Nesta watched as the potato flattened under the pressure of the spoon, it’s edges splitting into craggy fissures.

“Your turn.”

Nesta took the wooden spoon from Cassian and tried to mimic his technique.

“Come on, Archeron. You can do better than that. Really smash it. Pretend it’s my face you’re crushing.”

Nesta hid her smirk, and pressed hard. It was oddly satisfying.

When she was done, Cassian tossed in some herbs, a couple of crushed garlic cloves, a few glugs of olive oil and told Nesta to mix it up with her hands. She did as she was instructed, but cringed the whole entire time. As soon as the contents of the tray were mixed, she rushed to the sink to wash her hands.

That was one of the reasons why she didn’t cook. But aside from getting gross oil fingers, thirty minutes later they were sitting at the dining table with the most amazing smelling dinner in front of them, and Nesta decided it hadn’t been too bad.

Cassian held up the bottle of McCallen 1926. “Can I tempt you?”

She wasn’t a whiskey drinker in the least, but she was curious to see. When she nodded, he poured her two fingers’ worth.

Nesta twirled the liquid in her glass, trying to determine if she could spot how special it was just by looking at it. It looked pretty ordinary to her. She glanced at Cassian before taking a sip.

It was much more sweet than she had expected it to be. There were hints of dried fruit—figs, maybe. And as the liquid rolled over her tongue she picked up a bit of vanilla and something warm and nutty. Cinnamon? It was definitely familiar. When she finally swallowed, the aroma hit her. Christmas. This tasted like Christmas. Warm and comforting and…special.

She cleared her throat. “It’s okay.”

Cassian simply shook his head, torn between amusement and disbelief. He took his own sip and Nesta watched his face closely. It was subtle—almost imperceivable—but she saw his discovery mirror her own.

When he opened his eyes, his voice was awed. “It’s incredible.” He grinned. “I am never drinking anything else, ever again.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and he winked.

“Well, lets eat!”

Everything tasted as amazing as it looked and Nesta felt a flash of pride at how wonderful the potatoes were. They had baked them in the oven and the edges were crispy and fragrant. If that was all Nesta was allowed to eat for the rest of her life, she’d be happy.

“These potatoes are incredible.”

Cassian grinned. “They’re the easiest thing.”

“I never learned how to cook.” The words slipped out of Nesta’s mouth before she could stop them.

Cassian looked up, surprised. “Really? Then who taught Feyre? I thought…” He stopped himself from finishing that sentence.

Nesta looked away. She hated how he became quiet. Probably because he knew the truth about what happened all those years ago. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime ago. Sometimes, like at that very moment, it felt all too fresh.

She cleared her throat and straightened. When she turned back to him, her face was neutral, calm.

“How did _you_ learn to cook?”

Taking her cue, Cassian’s smile came easily. “I used to be a line cook,” he answered, popping a piece of steak into his mouth.

For the rest of the dinner, Cassian told Nesta of all the jobs he had had growing up. First as a dishwasher, then a line cook. There was the summer in high school when he was a life guard at the public pool but had to quit because all the moms were hitting on him.

Nesta rolled her eyes at that story, but then laughed when he told her about his stint as a dog walker. She almost choked when he told her about the time he baby-sat a nine-year-old.

“You were a _manny_?!”

“Yeah.” His grin turned into a scowl. “But then I was fired because the kid was failing math! I was only supposed to pick him up from school and made sure he didn’t break his neck until his parents got home. I didn’t sign up to teach long division.”

Nesta had to brush a tear of laughter from her eyes as Cassian cleared away the dirty dishes.

She smoothed her hair back and saw Cassian leaning against the kitchen counter, watching her.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

She sobered quickly. “I…um…no. I have to get back to work.”

He raised his eyebrow. “It’s 8pm.”

She stood up. “I have a lot of emails to get to.”

They held each other’s stare long enough for Nesta to feel uncomfortable, but then Cassian shrugged his shoulder and moved towards the sink.

“Another time then.”

Nesta watched him for three more seconds, then turned and left.


	6. Six

It was the end of the week and despite their rocky beginning, both Nesta and Cassian had made it through without causing any physical harm to one another. Much to Nesta’s surprise, they had even fallen into a daily routine with shared breakfasts, cocktails at five on the dot, and even cooking dinner together.

She had enjoyed that part of her days the most—almost looking forward to 6pm when she’d wander into the kitchen to see what they were having for dinner. It was easy to talk to Cassian when most of his attention was elsewhere and with her own small tasks to be done, she could easily ignore him if he was being too…Cassian.

Too Cassian.

Before the quarantine she would have labeled him as irritating—too full of himself and stubborn. Things came easy to Cassian: his smile, his jokes, flirting. He was at ease in every situation because he took nothing seriously whereas Nesta took _everything_ seriously. She didn’t understand how he did it, moved through life without analyzing every minuscule detail of it.

Before the quarantine she would have labeled him as a beautiful idiot, because yes, she couldn’t deny the fact that he was good-looking. Try as she might, even alone in her bedroom with no one else to judge her. She still couldn’t say those words, that looking at Cassian sometimes made her weak in the knees.

But that had been before the quarantine. After spending almost a whole week with him, Nesta had begun to discover other parts of Cassian. That he was an attentive listener and generous with his time. That he smiled at everything, even when it wasn’t funny. That he stuck the tip of his tongue out when he was trying to be flirty, but also subconsciously, when he was concentrating on something.

And in the span of six days, she had caught herself wondering what Cassian looked like shirtless, at least twice. Once, when she saw him lounging outside on one of the deck chairs. The rising sun had painted his face with a golden glow and she had wondered what it would have looked like, spilling across his broad shoulders. And a second time, when he had off-handedly pulled back the collar of his shirt to reveal that yes, he did in fact know what real pain was as marked by the whorls of black ink on his flesh.

Nesta had allowed herself a two second glance that had her stomach doing cartwheels. She had bit her lip hard enough to hurt and avoided his eyes for the rest of the dinner.

Yes, Nesta still thought Cassian was brash and too loud. He didn’t know how to respect personal boundaries and made everything his business. And how on Earth he wasn’t able to sit still or in silence for ten minutes straight would always grate on Nesta’s nerves. But he was also all the other small things that she had began discovering as well, the things that made her reconsider how much she actually despised him.

Which made her flustered for completely other reasons.

Looking around for something to distract her, her eyes fell onto her phone.

Perhaps she should finally give Feyre a call. She was beginning to feel guilty for not reaching out, especially because she hadn’t spoken to her baby sister since before their quarantining began.

Glancing at her watch, she figured now was as good a time as any.

Feyre picked up on the second ring.

“Nesta, hi. How are you?” Her voice was soft, happy.

“I wanted to check up on you. Is this a good time?”

“Yes, of course. I’m glad you called.”

Nesta could hear people talking in the background, but it had quieted down when Feyre spoke again. “How are things going with Cas—“ She cleared her throat. “How are you doing?”

Nesta scrunched her nose. She wasn’t sure why, but she had suddenly became annoyed. “Fine.”

Feyre was quiet, but when Nesta didn’t provide any further detail, she spoke again. “That’s good… all of my classes are online now… how’s work?”

Nesta shrugged even though she knew Feyre couldn’t see her. “Business as usual. Some people can’t do their jobs when they’re at work or at home.”

Feyre gave her a small chuckle. “Not everyone is as brilliant as you.” She paused a moment. “What about Cassian? Are you guys getting along?”

There it was again, that lick of irritation. “He’s fine. We’re fine. I can actually be civil, you know.”

“I know that! I was just _asking_. Making sure he wasn’t giving you a hard time or anything.”

“No.” Nesta felt just a smidge bit guilty. “I mean, he’s not being any more of a pain in my ass than he usually is.” She didn’t know why she was compelled to add, “We’ve been… making dinner together. We’re also taking turns making breakfast.”

“ _You’re_ making breakfast?”

“I know how to scoop yogurt into a bowl!”

Feyre laughed. “Can’t argue with you there. You’re the _best_ at it!”

“Damn right, I am.”

“Do you fan out the bananas and dot the granola with raspberries for Cassian, too?”

“No. He has not proven himself worthy of banana-fanning yet.”

Feyre laughed again. “Good. Only Archerons get fanned bananas.” After a few seconds, she let out a soft sigh and her voice was gentle. “But you’re doing okay?”

Nesta bit the inside of her cheek. It was always like Feyre to try and take care of them. Sweet, gentle, Elain, she understood, but sometimes Nesta hated the implication that she couldn’t take care of herself.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine, Feyre.”

“Good. And Elain? Have you talked to her? I try to call but we keep missing each other.”

“I talked to her last night. She sounds bored out of her mind, but I don’t know what she expected locking herself up in an apartment with Graysen.”

“Nesta.” There was that motherly tone again.

“Tell me you disagree.”

“She loves him.”

Nesta’s only response was a derisive snort.

When Feyre spoke again, the austerity was gone and was replaced with a hint of mischievousness that Nesta had learned to detect years ago. “I’m glad _you_ don’t sound like you’re bored out of your mind.”

“I’ve been busy with _work_.”

“In a beautiful house with the best scenery?”

“It’s… tolerable.”

Feyre cackled at that. “I’ll make sure to let Rhys know that you think his house is tolerable.”

“Please, don’t. It’ll just make his head bigger. I mean come on, Feyre. Who installs a full-sized sauna in their home?”

Her sister’s giggles were starting to become contagious and Nesta smiled. “I thought that, too, but just give in to the sauna, Nesta. You won’t regret it.”

“Fine, but _two_ Pelotons?”

“Okay. I’ll agree with you on that one, but it’s so much nicer when we don’t have to readjust the seat every time we want to ride.”

“Unbelievable. You know, Elain and I had to share _one_ bike until I was ten.”

“Yes, and I got all your hand-me-downs.”

Nesta smirked to herself.

“Listen, I gotta go. We’re just about to eat dinner.”

The photo of Feyre looking so happy with her new found family flashed in Nesta’s mind, making her chest feel oddly tight. “Okay. Have a good night.”

“You, too. Love ya.”

“Same.”

“Bye bye.” Feyre hung up, leaving Nesta’s room feeling even more quiet than it had before.

Wondering what to do with the rest of her day, she gave the book on her nightstand a dejected glance.

Normally, she would have jumped at the opportunity to spend the whole day reading, but she felt restless and decided that perhaps she should make use of the Peloton and sauna downstairs. It wasn’t as though she had any other plans and it would give her a chance to work out some of her sudden listlessness.

Silently thanking Elain for making her pack gym clothes, she changed into a matching set of stormy blue high-waisted tights and sports bra and gave herself a once over in the full-length mirror as she pulled her hair into a high pony-tail. Out of habit, she swiped her lips with her favorite mint balm before leaving the room.

The house was quiet and for a brief second, Nesta wondered were Cassian was. Again, his bedroom door was ajar and the room empty and she hadn’t heard him in the kitchen either.

She wondered if he was stretched out on the lawn as she’d seen him before, during her work days—no doubt spying on her or more likely, trying to get on her nerves and distract her from important emails and conference calls. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that he had chosen to reposition the outdoor furniture to sit perfectly framed in the view from the office window.

Nesta was debating whether or not she should call him out on it the next time she saw him when she entered the gym and stopped dead in her tracks.

Standing in the middle of the room, toweling off his brow was Cassian. His t-shirt was loose and the V of the collar hung low, revealing the sculpted hardness of his chest. Muscles defined and taut in a deep bronze, glistened with sweat. The dark curling ends of his tattoo rippled as he moved—like ink gliding over water—and Nesta’s fingertips tingled.

Looking up, his finally saw her standing in the doorway. Their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity and then he spoke, breaking the spell.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He grinned, slinging his towel over his shoulder.

Nesta crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

Cassian chuckled, making it sound like she’d just told a joke instead of sending a death glare his way.

“I’d ask if you were lost, but judging from your outfit, it doesn’t look like you’re on your way to the ball.”

Nesta watched as Cassian’s eyes dragged from her sneakers up her legs, then torso, and then…

She turned, walking over to the stationary bikes, hoping he hadn’t caught the flush that was beginning to bloom across her chest.

Looking at the Peloton, Nesta began to question her decision. Thinking she should switch over to the treadmill, she felt Cassian’s breath against the shell of her ear.

“Here, let me help.”

How he had managed to sneak up behind her without her noticing was a surprise, but not as big of one as how close he had gotten. She could feel the heat radiating off of him and if she took a half-step back, there was a strong chance she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from melting into him.

Instead, she straightened her back and at the sudden lost of heat, knew that Cassian had widened the distance between them. Chancing a glance behind her, she saw him leaning against the treadmill. His hand gently—casually—rubbing the back of his neck.

“You need special shoes for that,” he said, jutting his chin towards the pedals. “Feyre’s are in the cabinet. You wear the same size, right?”

Nesta took her time retrieving the shoes and putting them on, anything to give her a moment to even out her breathing and collect herself. It was only the surprise of running into him that had thrown her off.

_Focus, Nesta. You’ve seen a muscled man before._

When she got back to the bikes, Cassian was already tinkering with the levers and bolts.

“You’re taller than Feyre. We’ll have to adjust the seat.” He held out his hand.

Nesta swallowed, but did not let her hand slip into his. Instead, she nudged him away with her elbow to give herself some space.

Cassian chuckled. He remained standing where Nesta had pushed him, but he was still close enough for her to feel the rumble of his laughter on her skin—close enough for her to smell the salt and sweat on him.

She scowled.

Cassian moved behind her to tug at the seat, adjusting it to align with her hip before leaning over to tighten the screw, fixing it into place. She watched as his arms flexed, the tight chords of his muscles shifting easily beneath that deep copper skin.

She realized she had never stood this close to him before, so close that she could see a bead of sweat glide down the chiseled stone column of his neck and she hated the tightness she was feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she also couldn’t look away.

When Cassian straightened, Nesta bristled.

“I need you to hold your arm out so I can adjust the seat distance. Elbow at the seat front.”

This time, Nesta did finally allow Cassian to guide her and the gentle brush of his hand at her elbow, her arm, felt oddly intimate. His palm was calloused and the scrape of it against her skin made her spine tingle.

His hands were so big.

Nesta was reminded of where she was when Cassian told her she could get onto the bike. Eager for the distraction, she locked her shoe into the pedal and swung her leg around to the other side. Again, she felt the heat of Cassian’s body close to her skin, this time from the hand hovering just above the small of her back.

“I can handle it from here,” she said, dismissing him.

Clearing her throat, she began scrolling through the classes on the screen, not chancing a look at him.

She had already felt too vulnerable in the five minutes standing next to him and now that she was sitting on a bike, her feet locked into place, she couldn’t allow herself the possibility of toppling over, or worse, not being able to escape if he fixed her with one of his looks.

Cassian didn’t say anything until he got to the door. Not turning back, he said, “Have fun,” before leaving.

It wasn’t until Nesta heard the door click shut that she let her shoulders sag. Expelling a deep breath, she shook out the tension in her arms, her neck.

Scrolling through the classes, she decided a ninety minute power ride was exactly what she needed to shake the unfamiliar jitteriness that had suddenly seized her entire body.

* * *

Cassian let his forehead rest against the wall as he released a shuttering breath. He had made it to the end of the hallway before having to stop to collect himself. Slinging his towel across the back of his neck, he grabbed both ends and tugged firmly.

God.

He had barely made it out of there. Had surprised himself when he was able to say something that wasn’t a declaration of how much he wanted to kiss her, touch her.

He hadn’t been expecting it, her showing up at the gym like that and in those clothes…

He had always thought she was gorgeous. She had taken his breath away the first time he had laid eyes on her and in their subsequent meetings, she’d only proven herself more and more beautiful. But today… with that thin material matching the exact color of her eyes and clinging to each and every one of her curves, he couldn’t help himself. He just had to be near her.

And so he moved—stalked in three long strides—close enough to touch her, but not daring to.

He had half-expected her to turn around and snap at him. To claw at him with her nails and her words. And when she didn’t, and he saw the blush against the shell of her ear, exactly where his breath had been, he thought that maybe…

But her back had stiffened and so he backed away, tried to plaster on that cool exterior he could easily hide behind, not wanting to make her more uncomfortable than she had been. Of course, he was only human and when she walked off to find Feyre’s shoes, Cassian’s eyes had followed her. Followed those long legs, the curve of her backside, and the swell of her hips as they swayed.

He had had to muster every bit of strength in his body to remain calm. And for a moment, he had considered leaving the room to escape the torture.

But as soon as she’d come back within arm’s reach of him, he couldn’t walk away. And she had let him touch her arm.

It had been the most chaste of touches. A past Cassian would have laughed at himself for being so modest, but it had set his hand on fire. Her skin was so soft, and for a heartbeat, he had let himself wonder if she’d let him touch her anywhere else. Her shoulder? Her neck? Those pouty lips?

If she’d let him, he’d trace his fingertips across that delicate skin to mark her—let her know where his mouth would follow.

Cassian groaned.

He felt foolish, like a giddy teenager touching a girl for the first time, instead of the grown man he was. One who had taken many lovers, all of whom had let him do much more than touch their elbow.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

They had let him—wanted him to, begged him, in fact. But Nesta… all she did was push him away and brush him off. She had glared at him and bristled at his closeness. And when he was done being useful, she had dismissed him wholly.

Cassian had thought that she was finally beginning to thaw against him. Their interactions had become cordial, almost friendly at times. But again, she had managed to prove him wrong.

He raked a hand through his hair, tugging hard. Then pushed himself off the wall, and headed upstairs, looking to take a very, very cold shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to @zissa for being my sounding board and beta on this chapter.


	7. Seven

An orange alert flashed on Nesta’s screen, indicating she had an incoming call. Checking to see who it was, she rolled her eyes before answering the call. He was already ten minutes late to their meeting.

“Hi there, gorgeous!”

“Don’t call me that.” She bristled.

She had forgotten to tape up her laptop’s camera after her video call with Elain earlier that day and now she was looking at a split screen with Eris Vanserra grinning at her and her own scowling face next to his.

Raising her hand, she covered the green dot above her screen with her thumb, desperately looking for a sticky note to cover the camera completely.

“Hey, come on. What are you doing?”

“Share your screen, Eris. I don’t have time for this.”

“Come on, Archeron. At least let me have a peak at this mansion you’re staying in.”

Nesta made a mental note to send Amren a not-so-friendly text message. Or maybe it was Devlon who had spilled the beans on her current living situation. Either way, she was going to find out who it was and there would be hell to pay.

“It’s not a mansion,” Nesta tried to clarify. At least not compared to Rhys’ actual house in Malibu.

“Okay, but I swore I saw a Dali behind you. It’s not an original is it?”

Nesta knew exactly what image Eris was talking about. It had caught her eye, too, the first night she was there and Cassian had given her a tour of the house. She hadn’t said anything to him to indicate that she was interested, but upon her inspection the next morning, it really did seem like the real deal.

Of course, it was a lithograph and not an actual Salvador Dali painting, but Nesta wouldn’t have been surprised if the artist’s signature was somewhere on the back of the print.

“Are we going to talk about this fly-through or are you going to waste more of my time?”

“You’re the boss.”

Silently thanking the universe that he hadn’t put up more of a fight, Nesta watched as Eris’ pale and grinning face was replaced by his desktop screen and their project modeled in 3D.

She watched the two minute fly-by video of the one-hundred-acre build-out showing the scope of the site, the various buildings, and then focusing on the 40-story commercial tower and the garage next door which housed retail space on the ground floor.

“Wait, wait, wait. That’s not right.”

Eris stopped the video. “What?”

“The garage. Where’s the green wall and the sun shades?”

Eris was unusually quiet.

“How old is this model? Amren updated the base building plans last week. There’s supposed to be a green wall on the entire south facade with interlocking perforated panels.”

“Shit.” There was some commotion on the other end of the line. “I didn’t…she didn’t—“

“No. She updated the plan and emailed it to you last week.” Nesta brought her hand up to her face to massage the tension headache beginning to form between her eyebrows. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Eris. You’ve been working on the wrong plan for _a week_?!”

“Shit. Sorry, Nesta. Shit.” There was ferocious typing from Eris’ end of the line. “Okay, I found the email.”

“Now go back in time and find it a week ago!”

“Okay! I fucked up. I’ll get this fixed.”

“And how long is that going to take?” The pounding was getting worse.

“Three days…”

“How far back does that push the interiors package?”

“A week?”

Nesta gritted her teeth. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Err…” Eris cleared his throat. “Telling.”

Nesta was glad that she was still looking at Eris’ screen, despite it being wrong, instead of the video window. She didn’t need to see her pained face looking back at her.

Because now she’d have to call the client and tell them that they were running behind schedule. They had already sent her two emails earlier that week asking for updates and Nesta knew they wouldn’t be happy with this development.

_Damnit, Eris._

Devlon was definitely going to hear about this. And Nesta was dead set on giving him an earful before the clients had a chance to.

“Show me the interior views before I lose it.”

In the end, the call lasted another hour as they combed through the model, making sure that Eris had all of the right information and to allow Nesta a review of every inch of the presentation to ensure that there were no more mistakes.

When she was done with Eris, she gave Devlon a call. First reminding him that she had warned against letting Eris onto her project, and then proceeding to tell him the excruciating details of their hour-long call and all the mistakes he had made. Of course, Devlon didn’t volunteer to give the client the bad news regarding the change in their schedule, despite being the one to bring Eris on board, and so the responsibility had yet again fallen onto her shoulders.

Needless to say, after she had gotten off the phone, she was seeing red and her headache was now a beating snare against her temples.

Nesta leaned into the chair, letting her head fall back as she took deep breaths.

A ping sounded, indicating yet another email she needed to get to. The last time she had checked, there were twenty-three messages waiting for a response and that had been since before Eris called her. She didn’t want to see how many more people needed something from her now.

Sighing, she brought her hand up to rub her temples and noticed what time it was.

5:34pm. That was odd.

By now, Cassian would have had a drink waiting for her. Not that she had been expecting it, or him. But in the past two weeks they have been quarantined together, it had become a daily ritual and now it felt a little strange not to have seen him all afternoon.

Because now that she thought about it, Nesta hadn’t seen or heard from him for a couple of hours. She hadn’t even seen him sprawled on the lawn as he had been known to do from time to time. And as Nesta turned off her computer, she strained to find a sound coming from anywhere else in the house.

She frowned when the kitchen was empty and even looped back down the hallway to see if there was anyone in the gym. He wasn’t in his room or on the third floor, or even the garage which held a sparkling white Jeep, two canoes, and a full-sized wine fridge.

Getting worried, Nesta called out to him with no luck. She even walked the perimeter of the house and property, hoping to find him. But Cassian was no where to be seen and it wasn’t until she saw that his truck was gone that she realized he had left.

Nesta’s worry quickly burned up and was replaced by agitation.

_Where the hell is he?_

Marching back into the house, she got increasingly annoyed with each beat of her foot against the pavement. Annoyed that he had gone off somewhere, ignoring the fact that they were supposed to be quarantined and annoyed that he hadn’t bothered to tell her where he was going.

Irritated, she went to the counter where they had began to leave out their happy hour supplies—Nesta’s Hendrick’s and Cassian’s array of bourbons and Scotch. There, with a corner tucked under the bowl of lemons, was a scrap piece of brown paper with a messy note scrawled in black marker.

_Be right back._

Nesta frowned, turning the paper over to find it blank. That was barely a note and it hadn’t explained anything.

If she hadn’t been so frustrated, she might have been amused and wondered where he had found that random piece of brown paper. It’s edges were jagged, clearly torn from something. But after the day she had, it had just grated on her even further.

And the fact that she was slightly worried annoyed her even more.

Irritated, Nesta made herself a gin and tonic, not even bothering with a twist. Instead, she tossed mangled slices of lemons into her glass and swallowed half of her drink before pounding it down on the counter.

Pulling out her phone from her back pocket, she started to type a message to Cassian but as she looked at the pulsing curser, she realized she didn’t know what she wanted to say. She didn’t want to sound like she was looking for him, even though she was. Or that she was concerned, even though she was. She also didn’t want to demand to know where the hell he was at, even though she did.

In the end, she placed her phone on the counter without sending anything at all, finished the rest of her drink, and began pulling things out of the fridge and cupboards for dinner.

With her head in the fridge, reaching for a jar of olives in the very back, Nesta’s ears quirked at the sound of tires on gravel. She felt her pulse quicken and quickly chastised herself for it.

No sooner had Nesta placed the jar on the counter, did Cassian walk through the kitchen door, grinning at her.

“Hey, sweetheart. Did you miss me?” He asked as he washed his hands. His smile faltered when he saw her scowl.

“Don’t call me that.” Her eyes narrowed at him. “Where have you been?”

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry I’m late. I lost track of time, but hey…looks like you managed happy hour without me.”

Nesta grabbed the empty tumbler and began making herself another drink to give herself something to do and a reason to turn her back to him. She was angry with him for thinking she had come to rely on him for something as silly as a drink at the end of the work day, but also angry at herself for it being true.

“Where were you?”

She turned around when he didn’t reply and saw him leaning against the counter, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

Nesta crossed her arms.

“Let me start off by saying I took all the necessary precautions. I was wearing rubber gloves and a bandana around my face. Scout’s honor. They’re in my truck if you want to check.”

Nesta’s eyebrows knitted. “Where did you go?”

“I was at the other side of the lake. Rhys has these neighbors and they’re really sweet, but really old and their supplies were running low. I went over to drop off some stuff for them.”

Nesta’s arms fell limply at her sides. Of all the things she had expected him to say, she hadn’t expected that. She didn’t feel guilty often, but now there was a pang of it just behind her sternum.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Cassian grinned slowly, mischief lighting his eyes. “I was going to, but then I heard angry voices coming from the office. I figured whoever you were laying into deserved it and I didn’t want to interrupt. I left a note.”

The corner of Nesta’s mouth curled up just the slightest. “He _did_ deserve it. And your handwriting is atrocious.”

Cassian threw his head back with a hearty laugh and Nesta allowed herself a quiet chuckle.

Righting himself, Cassian finally looked at the items sitting on the kitchen island and instantly sobered. “What were you planning on having for dinner?”

Nesta was no chef, that was for sure, but looking at the items in front of her, she had managed to surprise herself. In her frustration, she had pulled out a grapefruit, eggs, a box of pasta, a jar of olives, and a box of baking soda.

“Oh god,” she moaned.

Side-stepping her, Cassian reached over to grab the box of pasta. “How about some of this. I can make a quick tomato sauce.”

Nesta nodded, feeling slightly less embarrassed. Both from the dismal array of food and how she had jumped to conclusions earlier. She would have liked to blame the latter entirely on Eris and Devlon, but the guilt still tugged at her.

Luckily, Cassian gave her no time to dwell on it because he was already dumping a tin of canned tomatoes into a bowl and slid it over to her.

“Here, crush these,” he instructed and began slicing up cloves of garlic.

She grabbed a wooden spoon from the jar of utensils next to the stove and tried to crush a tomato using the back of it to press against the bowl. The tomato slipped out from under the spoon, as did the next one she tried.

“What are you doing? Use your hands.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“You can use your hands or we can eat dinner at 10. Your call.”

Nesta turned to wash her hands at the sink before slipping both of them into the bowl of tomatoes. They were colder than she had expected and it made her shiver. She caught hold of a tomato and gave it a delicate squeeze, making a noise between a squeal and a grunt as she felt it give in her hands.

“Come on, Nesta. You can do better than that. Pretend it’s Eris’ head you’re trying to crush.”

She laughed, forgetting that she had complained about Eris and calling him out by name to Cassian just a few days prior. She was surprised he had remembered.

“Really give it a firm squeeze. Here.” Cassian rounded the counter to her and slipped his hands into the bowl.

Unliked the time in the gym, Nesta was not surprised to feel how warm his hands were as they cupped hers. Helping her scoop up a tomato, he pressed their hands together, wrapping them around the fruit and squeezed firmly. She felt the tomato burst under the pressure, oozing it’s seeds and flesh between her fingers.

She didn’t have a chance to feel squeamish because all of her attention was honed in on her hands, still sitting in Cassian’s. And how his fingers were almost interlaced with hers.

He cleared his throat and pulled away from the bowl, grabbing a kitchen towel.

“Go ahead.”

Not daring to look up at him, Nesta grabbed a tomato and squeezed. It popped, sending a spray of juice directly at Cassian and landing as a slash across his white t-shirt.

Caught between mortification and shock, Nesta did the only thing she could think to do and began laughing.

Pulling the front of his shirt away from him to examine it, Cassian began laughing too.

“If you wanted to see me topless, Nesta, all you had to do was ask,” he said grinning.

“Keep dreaming.” She rolled her eyes, but was happy when he turned away so he couldn’t witness the heat rising up her neck.

Her eyes followed him as he left the kitchen to change.

They lingered when halfway to the stairs, he whipped his shirt off over his head. Dark skin stretched over taut muscles and the curling ends of the tattoo Nesta had been getting peeks of draped his left shoulder. It felt like a tease—an invitation for her to come closer, too get a better look. And she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about what the whole tattoo looked like sprawled across Cassian’s chest.

When Cassian disappeared upstairs, Nesta let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Realizing she needed to get a grip, she shook her head to dislodge any more unwelcome thoughts of Cassian’s bare skin and hurried to finish her task. She even put on a pot of water to boil to keep herself busy.

Cassian returned wearing a red flannel button down that looked almost as soft as his dark waves, which had been pulled back into a knot. He grinned when he saw that all of the prep work had been done.

“I’ll make a chef out of you yet, Archeron.”

Nesta shrugged. “Boiling water isn’t rocket science.”

Cassian laughed and Nesta allowed him a smile.

Their dinner came together quickly after that and Nesta had even agreed when Cassian suggested they take their bowls of pasta to dine al fresco.

The spring breeze coming off the water was a bit chilly, but the grass was still warm from that day’s sunshine and Nesta liked the crisp greenness that hung in the air. Spring was here.

While they ate, Cassian told Nesta about Rhys’ neighbors across the lake, Drakon and Miryam, who had been there for over thirty years. They were one of the few who lived there year round and were almost like doting grandparents to their group, all of whom didn’t have much left in the way of parents or relatives.

Nesta wondered if that had been what drew Feyre to Rhys. It was something they could have bonded over.

She was pulled from her thoughts when Cassian reached over to take her empty bowl. Stacking it into his, he set their dirty dishes aside in the grass and leaned back in his chair.

“So who were you verbally castrating earlier?” He asked, taking a sip of his wine.

Nesta swirled hers in her glass. “Who didn’t I yell at today?”

Cassian grinned and shrugged. “Not me.”

“I didn’t yell at you.”

He flashed his canines. “You may not have raised your voice at me, but I felt the fear deep down in my bones.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Please. I wouldn’t peg you for someone who scares easily.”

“I’m not.” He took a sip of wine. “But you, Nesta Archeron, are _terrifying._ ”

The teasing smile Cassian gave her made Nesta want to squirm in her seat. To give herself something to do, she took a long sip of wine and cast her eyes out onto the lake.

She shouldn’t have accepted the second glass he had offered earlier. She was beginning to feel it—a slight buzz in her head and a warm flush on her cheeks.

Cassian shifted in his seat and after a second, Nesta let her eyes drift over to find him also looking out onto the water.

They shared a minute of silence, watching as the water shifted colors with each ripple. First orange, then pink, yellow, purple, blue—reflecting the sun sinking beyond the trees.

It was beautiful. It was peaceful.

That is, until Cassian cleared his throat and opened his mouth.

“Want to watch a movie?”

Nesta raised her eyebrow. “What’s with you and movies?”

Cassian had asked her if she wanted to watch a movie almost every night for two weeks and while she had declined his offer every time, it had not deterred him from asking again and again or from watching them himself.

Seeing the disarming grin on his face made Nesta almost forget the mountain of emails she had told herself she’d get to after dinner.

“I dunno.”

She studied his face. The deep bronze of it, with cheekbones and a jaw that greek gods would have killed for. His nose was high and straight except for the slight bend at the bridge and she wondered if it had ever been broken before.

He readjusted himself in his seat.

“I guess it’s been a sort of ritual for me, ever since I was young.”

Nesta eased forward, a silent invitation for him to continue.

“My mom was a nurse and she worked a lot of double shifts and late nights. It was just me and her, you know? But I hardly got to see her so I _always_ stayed up. After dinner and homework and whatever, I’d put on a movie to keep myself awake. Back then we only had eight DVDs, but they were on constant rotation.” Cassian smiled to himself. “I always fell asleep, but mom would come home and she’d eat her dinner on the couch with me and we’d watch the endings together. To this day, I still don’t know what happens in the middle third of _Back To The Future_.”

Nesta chuckled and Cassian smiled at her. But the smile was soft, almost sad.

“What happened to her?”

“Cancer.”

The word was heavy and landed with a dull thud between them.

“I’m sorry.”

Cassian was looking down at his hands now, as if he’d never seen them before and she felt the urge to reach over to clasp his hands in hers and give him a reassuring squeeze. She wondered if that was being too forward—an invasion of his personal space—or maybe he wanted it, needed it. She hated not knowing what to do in these types of situations. And she hated how she was overthinking it. But before she could do anything, Cassian looked up at her.

“What about you? Your mom?”

Nesta froze, wide-eyed.

“Do you—“

She shot out of her seat, startling him.

“I have work I need to get done tonight,” she said, turning on her heels.

“Wait.” Cassian grabbed her hand, rough palms scraping her knuckles. “It’s okay. You can talk about it. I know—“

She broke her hand free. “You don’t know anything.”

Leaving Cassian speechless on the lawn, Nesta returned to the office to hide behind its heavy door and her work.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Kudos and comments are always appreciated and if you want to chat about Nessian all day, feel free to hit me up @regolithheart on Tumblr.


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